


The Joys of Closed Circuit Television

by TaureanMama



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: CCTV is not for flirting Greg Lestrade, Fluff, Greg is a flirt, Happy Ending, Humour, Little bit of angst, M/M, MY BABIES, Mycroft you big baby, Mycroft you softie, One Shot, Rude Language ahead, Victorian Flower Language, You Have Been Warned, johnlock if you squint, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7920871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaureanMama/pseuds/TaureanMama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg's had a rough day at work. Thankfully there's the British Government to call off the pest known as one William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Fluffiness ensues. </p><p>Mycroft finally learns that maybe it is a good thing to break the ice once in a while.</p><p>Dedicated to sleepingFrog, who has been my own "conductor of light" for this piece. God, shoot me for the reference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Joys of Closed Circuit Television

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleepingFrog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingFrog/gifts).



Lestrade was by no means in a good mood. This case had stretched on for a week now, Sherlock was trying his best to catch the sneaky bastard who'd murdered three women in the space of a month.

 

He sighed and rubbed his face for a moment as his thoughts about the evidence continued to swirl in his mind. This crazy psycho was so close; he knew it was just a matter of time but he was tired, he was hungry... He was exhausted. There was only so much that caffeine could achieve when attempting even the longest of stakeouts. What jolted him from his mind was a sharp baritone voice, the words every bit as cutting as the man who uttered them.

 

"Graham, your team are clearly inept, this case could have been solved four days ago if they had provided all the evidence in the first place." Sherlock huffed, clearly annoyed as well.

 

"It's Greg, you pillock!" Lestrade snapped back at him, clearly at his wits end. "I am not in the mood for being degraded, so can you please just _fuck off_?"

 

Sherlock looked ready to spout some rather severe deductions.

 

"Save it, Sherlock. I'm fucking knackered running around after this twat for a week. You might not be human like the rest of us, but we need sleep and food." It was clear that poor Greg was in a foul mood.

 

Sherlock was about to speak up again when John beat him to the punch.

 

"Sherlock. The poor bloke has had enough." He looked to Sherlock with a clear 'not good' face.

 

Sherlock frowned but soon felt his phone vibrate with a text. **Leave the Detective Inspector in peace. -M**

 

His expression soured further and he stormed away from Greg. John sighed and wished Lestrade farewell before leaving him in peace. The DI made his way to his office, sighing as he slumped into his desk chair. This case was straining them all; It didn't help with Greg's divorce giving him grief.

 

Picking up the frame which sat upon his desk, he gazed upon the picture inside fondly, one of him and his two children, Ward and Lily. Ward was the spitting image of him, while Lily looked more like her mother. Both children adored him, as was clear from the photo. Ward stood beside his dad, looking proud, while Lily was hugging Greg's middle with the cheesiest grin she could manage. A small smile crossed his lips for a brief moment.

 

The shuffling of feet from beyond his office door indicated someone was coming, a shadow soon filling the doorway.

 

"Sherlock, I thought I told you to leave."

 

The man stood at the door cleared his throat.

 

"Wrong Holmes, Detective Inspector."

 

"Ah shit…" Greg muttered. "Mycroft. What brings you to my office?"

 

"Unfortunately I am here on a business call." Mycroft arched a brow at Greg's informal speech. "The current case you are working is no longer in your hands."

 

"What?" Greg frowned before standing. "Why? I've spent ages tracking this murderer and now you're handing it to the toffs at MI6?"

 

"The culprit is not of your concern anymore, Inspector."

 

Greg looked like the icing had just been put on his proverbial cake. He slammed his fist against his desk before sighing. Mycroft took the silence as indication to speak.

 

"Perhaps I can interest you in dinner?"

 

"Fuck, please, I am just sick of this office at the minute. Just get me out of here." Greg pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

"Consider it done." Mycroft looked to him. "Any particular restaurant you would prefer?"

 

"I could kill a Chinese takeaway right now."

 

Mycroft kept his opinion on the food to himself, for Gregory's sake.

 

"Very well. Will it be the usual?"

 

"... How do you know my usual- you know what, never mind, I don't want to know. Just get me out of here." Greg grabbed his coat and left with Mycroft, leaving Sally in charge. He looked dead on his feet and it was about time he got a break.

 

When the takeaway had been acquired, Mycroft had Anthea provide a dinner for his more delicate palate that hadn't been destroyed by spicy and greasy food. He sat in the car opposite Gregory with his own little takeout boxes.

 

"Look, Mycroft... Thanks for dinner. I also guess I should thank you for getting rid of Sherlock earlier."

 

"It is a pleasure; you are far from the most demanding guest I've ever had. It is also a pleasure to give Sherlock much needed direction when he is somewhat insensitive to it."

 

"You're telling me..." Greg rubbed a hand over his face, a gesture he only did when tired or frustrated, Mycroft noted.

 

"He is trying, I agree, but he is better now."

 

"Yeah. Much different from the man high as a kite I picked up the first time I nicked him." Greg reminisced his first encounter with Sherlock, twenty years old and completely stoned; but he knew details of the crime that not even forensics had picked up and he was right on every single detail. Greg had arrested him then and there, taking him to jail. After he had done so, he had his first encounter with the man across from him.

 

"As I recall, you were reluctant to release him to me."

 

"Could you blame me? You waltzed in like you owned the place and shooed me off to go get him."

 

"Looking back upon my actions now, I agree that I was a bit condescending of you.".

 

"You have a funny way of apologising."

 

"How so?"

 

"You say it in a way that makes it sound like you're insulting me." Greg grinned a bit. "That's something you and Sherlock have in common."

 

"Hm, perhaps I ought to make it clearer. I apologise sincerely for my previous actions." Mycroft even sounded genuine.

 

"... On second thought just keep to the way you do it. That was actually a bit terrifying to witness." Greg teased.

 

"How very kind of you to rebuff me, Inspector."

 

They soon pulled up to Greg's apartment. He looked over at Mycroft with a smile. Mycroft quickly noted that Gregory did not know how charming that smile actually was.

 

"Again, thanks Mycroft."

 

"It was my pleasure, Inspector."

 

"Call me Greg."

 

"... I shall not address you so informally. Will Gregory suffice?"

 

Greg laughed. "My mother calls me Gregory, but alright. See you later."

 

"Farewell, Gregory."

 

Greg got out of the car and made his way to his home. Mycroft visibly relaxed in his seat once he was gone, Anthea slipping in beside him from the front seat.

 

"So... Did you ask him?"

 

"No. He is tired. I will ask later."

 

"You can't avoid him forever."

 

Mycroft sighed and Anthea got firmly engrossed in her mobile once again. He would have to face Gregory sooner or later.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Greg found himself unable to sleep later that night, having gotten overtired from the case. He wanted nothing more than to rest; but his body seemed to have other plans. He huffed a bit, arm slung behind his head in his frustration as he lay upon his sheets in just his boxers. What didn’t help was that he was replaying the moments he’d spent with Mycroft today. He hadn’t quite realised to what extent he’d fallen into a rapport with the other. Mycroft seemed to know him better than he knew himself, and that was an intimate thing for Greg.

 

“… Fuck. I’m getting too deep with these Holmes men…” He grumbled to himself before dragging himself up begrudgingly for a shower.

 

As the shower began spraying over the bare back of the Inspector, he took his time to think over the events of the day and why Mycroft had taken the time to be so pleasant towards him. It was clear that there was a connection between the two of them, but Greg had been reluctant to bridge the gap. What exactly was there to say to a man like Mycroft Holmes? ‘I’ve been pining after you for months but I have no clue if you’re gay?’ Not exactly Greg’s finest words.

 

He began to soap up and scrub at his skin, trying to get the layers of dirt from his skin from the sheer mania that had been the case. He would have to jump the hurdle with Mycroft when he got to it; instead of fretting over what could be. Once he was rinsed, he reached for his towel and wrapped it around his waist, stepping out into his bedroom. What made him wary was the fact his bedroom door was now ajar.

 

“You really should just be up front with him, you know.” Came a baritone voice from over in the other corner of Greg’s room.

 

“JESUS- Fuck, SHERLOCK! What have I told you about breaking and entering?!”

 

“My brother told me about the events from today. He seemed…” Sherlock grimaced. “… _Happy_.”

 

“… And?” Greg grabbed another towel from the cupboard before ruffling his hair dry with it. It wasn’t the first time Sherlock had seen him like this, the man had been a drug user after all and Greg would be damned to see him out on the street when he was high, regardless of what accommodation Sherlock had talked his way into.

 

“ _Because of you, he was happy_.” Sherlock stressed, still looking displeased. “My brother is never happy with anything, but you seem to have something about you.”

 

“Maybe it’s my charming sense of humour.” Greg joked.

 

“You like him.”

 

“Give the genius a medal.”

 

Sherlock snorted at his insult. “If you like my brother, be warned that if you break his heart, I will not hesitate to break you.”

 

“… Oooohhh, so _this_ is what it’s all about, it’s the protective brother speech!” Greg grinned at Sherlock. “What in the hell makes you think I stand a chance with him, let alone that I like him that way?”

 

“Don’t lie, Greg, doesn’t suit you.”

 

“Hey, you got my name right this time!”

 

“He likes you, Lestrade. Don’t let him think twice on it. Or else.”

 

“Bit ominous even for you. I’ll think about it, okay?”

 

“A wise choice. Must dash, there’s thumbs sitting on the table in the flat and John’s due home in fifteen minutes.” Sherlock made a swift motion to exit through the door he came through when Greg grabbed his shoulder.

 

“If I tell Mycroft, you’ve got to tell John.”

 

Sherlock groaned. “Feelings. I don’t do feelings, Gavin.”

 

“Berk. Just get out, and stop picking my locks!” Greg scolded as Sherlock disappeared.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

By the morning, Mycroft was already discussing policies with the Prime minister, and had been doing so since 4am. Honestly, could no one run a country? Each new Prime Minister they elected into parliament was barely qualified to tie their own shoes let alone decide where the war efforts should be sent. It frustrated Mycroft to no end. When he was able to politely disconnect from the call, he had to pinch the bridge of his nose, a migraine already beginning to set in. A quiet knock on the door and a slight click as it opened was Mycroft’s only notion of knowing that his assistant had entered the room.

 

“Sir?”

 

“What is it, Anthea?”

 

“It’s Detective Inspector Lestrade. You wanted to know when he was on the move again.” She spoke softly, an irritable Mycroft was a harsh one and she had woken up in such a good mood this morning. She slid the blinds shut, wordlessly placing painkillers and water on Mycroft’s desk within moments.

 

Mycroft took the moment to observe his watch. Exactly seven forty-five; he was on time as usual. His silence was taken as thanks to Anthea, and a small wave of his hand dismissed her. She was quiet exiting the room, not wanting to make his migraine worse.

 

A small screen lifted from Mycroft’s desk; lit up with CCTV footage from all over London, though what he was focused on was the display of one certain Silver Fox on the way to work. He’d been observing Inspector Lestrade’s movements for a while now, not for any particular reason of course. He had all of Sherlock’s colleagues and friends under observation, for security’s sake. Although he would glance over each feed of the whereabouts of these people, Lestrade- no… _Gregory_. Gregory was his favourite to observe. He could call him Gregory now, after last night. He had explicit permission to. Already, his mood lifted slightly from that small grain of knowledge.

 

Gregory was departing from his small flat, getting into his car. It could be made out from the footage that today, the dear Detective Inspector was in a much better mood. He had slept well, and he was no longer as tired as he looked yesterday. At least he would not have the case to worry about, he could go and get on with the more important paperwork. Paperwork, Mycroft thought, he did not envy the pile that sat upon Gregory’s desk in the yard, the poor man was swamped with it.

 

Mycroft was pensive for a while, trying to understand his own thoughts about the man on the screen. Ever since Gregory had taken Sherlock under his wing, Mycroft had developed a small soft spot towards him. Gregory was able to give Sherlock guidance when Sherlock refused to listen to reason from his family. He couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, but… he had identified that he indeed, had sentimental feelings for the other. The highlight of Mycroft’s morning was watching this man travel to work, which in itself was slightly creepy. He hadn’t a clue of how to approach Gregory, he wanted to be closer to the man but he didn’t know how to interact, especially with affairs of his own heart. Give him a nuclear crisis, anything, just not something that would reveal weakness like this.

 

With a heavy sigh, Mycroft watched as Gregory got out at his office, a smile on his face. Did he not know how that smile of his affected others? His good looks and natural charm were enough to cement his title at the office of The Silver Fox, how the other ever doubted his worth was not something Mycroft could begin to comprehend. Eventually, Mycroft’s thoughts steeled, Eventually I will show him what he is worth. He shut off the screen and took his painkillers, preparing to face the day ahead. He could already tell this would be a trying day.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

As the day wore on, Greg swore he felt an extra set of eyes on him today. He had been called out to a case, one that he could solve on his own. While he’d been crouching on the pavement, he felt like the security camera on the street had swivelled to face his direction. Sure enough, when he stood up, the CCTV camera was facing him and observing. Frowning slightly, he went to the outer cordon; reporting out of the scene and pulled out his phone. He could find the CCTV footage back in his office when he got permission to; right now though, he knew it wouldn’t hurt to call in a quick favour to someone who could probably find it a lot faster.

 

“If it’s not one Holmes, it’s the other…” Greg muttered, dialling Mycroft’s number. He questioned how it even got onto his phone in the first place for a moment, but then decided he’d rather not think about it. After a few rings, a smooth voice spoke up.

 

“Detective Inspector. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

“… Mycroft. I need a hand.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Mm. Currently at a scene, turns out there’s CCTV down this street. Think you could pull up the footage for me? Please?” Greg was polite enough, though he could hear muffled voices. He must have phoned in the middle of a meeting. But why did he answer?

 

“Certainly, Gregory.” Mycroft quickly switched the feed he was on into reverse and found the footage. He sent it off in a small file, encrypted twice for protection to Greg’s email.

 

Sure enough, the footage reached Greg’s email, his phone going off. Greg frowned slightly.

 

“I didn’t even tell you the street name.”

 

Mycroft closed his eyes for a moment. Damn. He swiftly came up with an excuse.

 

“Anthea is right here; she’s been surveying the feeds for me on my behalf.”

 

“… Just how high up am I on that monitoring list of yours, Mycroft? Cause I’m pretty sure the camera that was on the scene just now has just turned to face me and stayed there for the time I’ve been on the phone to you, and it wasn’t a regularly timed movement either.” Greg hadn’t earned his inspector role for nothing.

 

“You have just asked me for CCTV footage from where you are standing, of course Anthea would have the live feed from that same camera currently viewing.”

 

Something still didn’t feel right to Greg. “Fair point. I still get the feeling I’m being observed far more than what would be considered normal, even for monitoring. Call it a hunch.”

 

“Do not fret, Inspector. I assure you the only people who can see these feeds are Anthea and myself.” Mycroft was about to explain further when Anthea interrupted, within earshot.

 

“Sir, I can’t be in that meeting by myself anymore, your presence is required. The Inspector will have to wait.” She looked to him, knowing by the small change in look on Mycroft’s face, she had blown whatever excuse he’d given to Greg out of the water.

 

“…Anthea’s not watching the feeds, is she?” Greg sounded a bit annoyed that Mycroft had lied, but decided to give Mycroft the benefit of the doubt. The poor man sounded like he’d been caught out on something he truly enjoyed doing, and if watching him was a pastime that Mycroft liked, he wouldn’t deny him. Not that he had much choice, but… it made Greg feel wanted at least. “Well… if you ever get sick of looking at me from behind a screen, give me a call.” He hung up the phone before Mycroft had a chance to answer.

 

“Sir?” Anthea noted the slight pink that had made its way onto Mycroft’s cheeks.

 

“… Arrange to have the Inspector picked up this evening, bring him to the estate. We need to talk in more depth.” Mycroft spoke quickly, before catching a glimpse from the CCTV feed of Greg. What he saw almost made him lose composure. Greg was waving to him with a smile, and had _blown a kiss at him_. “Definitely need to talk.”

 

“Very well, sir. I’ll have the car ready for the end of his shift.” Anthea smirked slightly. “Your presence is still required in the meeting, sir. It wouldn’t do to keep the ambassadors waiting.”

 

“Of course. Thank you, Anthea.” He stood and headed towards the room. Although he was currently dealing with the situation at hand, his mind was far from focused. That small little clip of CCTV was playing over in his head. He needed to get a good idea about all of this before he could function as himself again.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The minute that the car began to crawl along the kerb beside Greg, he knew he was being ‘summoned’. It was a bit hard to miss, since it was a car with blacked out window rolling at his walking speed beside him. When the window descended, it revealed Anthea.

 

“Detective Inspector Lestrade? Mister Holmes has asked for you to join him this evening. It appears you are due to have a discussion of recent events.”

 

“He wants to see me, does he?” Greg smiled inwardly, but outwardly showed no real interest. “I told him to call me, you know.”

 

“Believe me, this is his way of ‘calling you’.” Anthea spoke slightly out of turn, if not to finally get to see her boss stop tiptoeing around the subject of one DI Gregory Lestrade.

 

“… Suppose I have no option to turn this one down then.” Greg sighed a bit. “Give me a minute to collect my things, I’ll be right back, okay?”

 

“Of course, Inspector.”

 

Greg was true to his word, collecting his things before heading back towards the car. Once he had got in, he sat back and watched as Anthea became engrossed in her phone once more. Her sudden speech made him jump slightly.

 

“He apologises that he can’t be here himself but a meeting overran and he has to finish there for reasons that are classified.”

 

“Right. So he’s being secret agent man then.” Greg grinned at her, but got no response. “Is your hand superglued to that thing?” He gestured to the phone in her hand. He managed to get a small smile from that.

 

“No, Inspector. I can assure you it’s not. Though I have to treat it like it is. Too much could go wrong if I abandoned my duties.”

 

“Oh. So if you’ve not got it in your hand, we know Britain is buggered then?”

 

“… For lack of a better phrase.”

 

Greg nodded and minded his own business as they took the journey to Mycroft’s estate home. When he arrived, his coat was taken from him and hung up before he was guided into a small room with a fireplace. The butler was the only person to speak to him.

 

“Mister Holmes has an estimated time of arrival of fifteen minutes. He apologises once again for the delay. Is there anything you require, sir?”

 

“Uh… Scotch would be great if you got any, on the rocks maybe?”

 

“Yes sir, certainly.” The butler bowed his head before going over to the liquor cabinet in the corner of the room. Greg took the time to analyse his surroundings. This place screamed Mycroft in every sense, he could envision the man sitting back in his armchair, observing the fire. The thought made Greg smile; the fact even someone like Mycroft Holmes could be as human as the rest of them was something he was sure he was privileged to witness.

 

Nursing the glass now in his hand, he was alone in the room. Moving over to the sofa, he slid into one of the corners, deciding to make himself at home. After all, he was in for a long talk, or at least he thought so. It wasn’t too long before the door opened once more, and the man he’d been waiting to see stepped through.

 

“Inspector, I do apologise.”

 

“I told you, Mycroft. It’s Greg. I’m off the clock. ‘sides, not like I had anything else to do tonight.” Greg went to get up from his seat when Mycroft put out his hand.

 

“No, please, remain seated. You are clearly comfortable.”

 

“Alright. So then, what did you want to talk to me about?”

 

“About our earlier phone call… and your actions following that.” Mycroft was straight to the point. “I must question if you are indeed serious or if you find it humorous to act in such a way over CCTV, Gregory.”

 

“… Is that what’s gotten you all riled up? Cause I blew a kiss at you, knowing it was you on the other end of the camera?” Greg smirked a bit. Sherlock was right, though he’ll be damned if he told him that.

 

“It’s not appropriate behaviour when at a crime scene. I fear Sherlock may finally have some influence on you.” Mycroft responded. That was not how it was intended to come out.

 

Greg stood up, frowning. “First off, I wasn’t even on the scene. I wouldn’t dial you on a scene, that’s gross misconduct, I break enough rules calling Sherlock. Second, you have a very select sense of humour, I was trying to get a rise out of you.”

 

Mycroft’s lips pursed into a thin line. “Congratulations, Gregory, you have my attention.”

 

“It was having a bit of fun!”

 

“So you think it is fun to toy with feelings of another? I never thought you would stoop so low.”

 

“Hang on a minute-“

 

“I have heard enough.” Mycroft didn’t show it but he was upset. “You do not have to stay any longer.”

 

“Mycroft-“

 

“Good Evening, Inspector.”

 

Before Greg could defend himself, he was ushered out pretty quickly. He found himself standing outside on the porch.

 

“Well, that could have gone a lot better.” He grumbled. He’d also possibly just buggered up his chance to actually be with the man. “… Fucking hell.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It took the last of Greg’s money for him to get back to his flat, trudging in, having gotten wet. He slung his now wet coat over one of the chairs, somewhat angrily. Instead of going for a shower… he picked up his phone and rang Sherlock. He couldn’t just sleep this off, he needed to know if he’d gotten the wrong end of all this. The phone picked up after three rings.

 

“What.” Sherlock’s voice growled down the phone.

 

“Your brother is a fucking drama queen.”

 

“Tell me something that isn’t completely obvious, I might bother to stay on the phone.”

 

“He just kicked me out!”

 

Sherlock sat up a bit. “What did you say to him?”

 

“Well, I uhm… flirted with him, earlier today. He called me in and started to tell me off for doing it. I was just being myself, and he thought I was toying with him- Wait, why are you so eager to help me?”

 

“Because if you distract my brother, he’s on my case less.” Sherlock admitted. “Plus I’m sick of watching you mope over your divorce, and John says it is good for me to assist you on other things to expand my… friendships.”

 

“Right. Well, Genius, you know your brother… what do I do?”

 

“He’s worried you’re not being serious about it. Prove to him you’re serious.”

 

“… And how the hell do I do that?! Waltz up to him with a bunch of roses and apologise? He’s not a woman, Sherlock.”

 

“Again, stop saying such obvious statements, it’s tiresome.”

 

“Just fucking tell me.”

 

“You wouldn’t be turned away if you did do such a gesture toward my brother. If anything he would think you noble.”

 

“… You can’t be serious.”

 

“Goodbye, Graham.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait, Sherlock- Are you sure? I mean, are Roses the ones he likes?”

 

“It would do you some good to read up on Victorian flower language. Mycroft is dull enough to know what it means. Pick something adequate.”

 

“Right. Thanks, Sherlock.”

 

“Goodbye, Gavin.”

 

“Pillock.” Greg hung up on Sherlock and sighed. He knew what he had to do. Opening up his own laptop, he began the research on flower language, trying to find out what to give Mycroft to make him understand.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Two.

 

Weeks.

 

Mycroft had been avoiding Greg on the CCTV for two weeks now. Two painfully boring and intense weeks with non-stop meetings. There was a crisis he had to sort out for one week and a half, which meant negotiations until an ungodly hour. He was tired. By the time he’d finally gotten back to the estate, it was almost five-thirty in the afternoon. It was raining heavily, another affirmation to his already negative mood. His umbrella sheltered him from the downpour before he stepped inside.

 

The house now felt… empty, walking into it. Nothing had changed, yet, Mycroft still felt incomplete. He put his jacket on the back of his armchair, unbuttoning his cufflinks and rolling his sleeves up. He was out of sorts from an unforgiving trip, perhaps this moment of relaxation was what he needed. Only that moment was not to last, a knock on the front door disturbing it. Mycroft looked to the butler, a silent indication that he would retrieve the door for himself before leaving the room.

 

The sight that met him when he opened the door was entirely unexpected. There stood one Gregory Lestrade, bouquet in hand and completely drowned through to the skin. Judging by his state, he’d walked the last ten minutes of the journey.

 

“Mycroft…” Greg looked to him, still holding out the bouquet of flowers to him. “I’m sorry. I should have said this a bit sooner. I’m utterly fucking crap at any form of relationship, and I have no clue how to do this whole asking you to dinner thing, but… I was hoping maybe you’d go with me? I would have come sooner but Anthea told me you were on a business trip-“

 

Greg was silenced by one of Mycroft’s fingers sitting gently against his lips.

 

“You, Gregory Lestrade, are one of the most insane men I have ever met. However…” he examined the bouquet, it was mainly tulips. A declaration of love- though the colour, Yellow; A Hopeless love. ‘Oh Gregory...’, Mycroft thought. “Your love is not as hopeless as you declare it to be. I would be delighted if you would take me to dinner, though, I think it would be a better idea to get you some dry clothes, you are soaked through.”

 

“So, this is apology accepted?” Greg was smiling to Mycroft, clearly glad the intended message went through.

 

“Apology accepted.” Mycroft took the bouquet and had it taken off to be displayed in the drawing room, the room Gregory had first been invited into. He turned to Greg, offering his hand and taking him in from off the porch. “You need to get changed. This way, I shall show you to the bathroom.”

 

“I might need a map to find my way around this place.” Greg chuckled a bit, but allowed Mycroft to lead him part of the way. When he saw the opportunity, he slipped in front of Mycroft, placing a hand on his cheek, the two now very close. “You know, that kiss I blew on the CCTV camera? I’m not sure it hit it’s mark the first time around. May I?”

 

Mycroft was surprised quite pleasantly, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks slightly. “You may.”

 

“Good, I’ve been waiting ages to do this-“ Greg leaned in and closed the gap, finally getting to kiss Mycroft. This was worth the wait, Greg declared inwardly, glad he’d managed to gather up the courage. It was worth hearing the soft sigh, which definitely came from Mycroft, no matter if he tried to deny it. Pulling away after a few moments, he smiled genuinely. “Okay, now I’m starting to get a bit cold from being soaked.”

 

The laughter that came from the two of them was that missing element from Mycroft’s home. Gregory was missing, and now he was here, things felt like they were falling back into their normal places again.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Since the two had finally gotten together- Approximately nine days, fifteen hours and twenty-eight minutes, according to Mycroft- Greg had found himself getting a little bit low from where he had been called out for a case. It wasn’t really fair, but criminals never cease to cause problems; not to mention Mycroft had his own meetings to attend. He knew that he couldn’t stay in the same atmosphere with him forever.

 

“Gavin. Gavin, are you even paying attention? I know Anderson is hard to listen to but this is important.” Sherlock frowned from Greg’s distracted look.

 

“Just… Give Sally the details. I need a minute.” He left the scene and stepped to where one of the CCTV cameras could see him. Sherlock’s expression changed to one of slight disgust, but he spouted off all his deductions to Donovan.

 

Greg picked up his phone and rang Mycroft. God, he was as done for as a lovesick teenager. He felt young all over again.

 

“Gregory?”

 

“I miss you.”

 

Greg didn’t miss the small hold in breath on the other end of the phone.

 

“…Dinner?” Came the eventual response.

 

“Maybe. If I can stay?”

 

“Of course, Gregory. Always.”

 

“I love you.” Greg felt his heart beating slightly harder for saying it. He heard Mycroft shift slightly.

 

“And I you, Gregory.”

 

“No, I want to hear you say it.”

 

“…Alright. Give me a minute.” Mycroft moved from his chair, addressing the others in the room. “Excuse me, Gentlemen, I must take this more privately.” The affirmative noises came and Mycroft departed from the meeting room before sitting back in his office for five minutes.

 

“Have you got the CCTV cameras up?”

 

“Yes. I can see you. You’re meant to be working.” Mycroft chided, but it was affectionately so. Greg grinned at the camera, making Mycroft’s breath catch.

 

“I know. But I missed you. And I wanted to tell you I love you.”

 

“I love you too, Gregory. It amazes me how much I do.”

 

“Doesn’t really amaze me… because you’ve always been human, love, no matter what everyone around you thinks.” Greg really wished he could be beside Mycroft, it was a vulnerable moment for him like this, he needed to know it was okay.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Speak to you after work?”

 

“Mm. I’ll need to determine when you finish, so we can go for dinner.”

 

I’ll let you know. Bye, love.”

 

“Goodbye, Gregory.”

 

The call disconnected and Mycroft kept his eye on the CCTV feed.

 

Sure enough, Greg was smiling and blew a kiss to the Camera, giving him a cheeky wink before going back to the scene. Mycroft felt a small smile cross his lips. That man was far too sweet for his own good, but he belonged to Mycroft and that was all that mattered.

 

Greg got back onto the scene, looking far happier than when he left.

 

“God, your happiness is disgusting.” Sherlock huffed.

 

“At least I am happy, mate.” Greg shot back. “Did you give Sally the details?”

 

“Yes. I’m not an imbecile, unlike half of your team.”

 

“Sherlock!” John frowned. He turned to Greg. “Drink at the pub after this?”

 

“Nah, sorry John. Got a date.”

 

“Date?”

 

“Yeah. He’s uh… quite something.”

 

“He? I didn’t know you were that way, not that it’s a bad thing.”

 

“Yeah. Been crushing on him for years.”

 

“For heaven’s sake John, look at what he was doing when he had the CCTV camera on him.” Sherlock snapped.

 

“Oh, you saw that?” Greg looked at Sherlock.

 

“Yes. It’s disgusting that you can be so affectionate with my brother. I’d rather not think about it.”

 

“Hold on a minute-“ John interrupted. “…Mycroft?!”

 

“Yeah. Look, John, I’ll explain over a pint later in the week but I don’t want to be stuck on this scene for longer than I have to. I’ve got a date with Mycroft.” Greg rubbed the back of his neck slightly.

 

“…I’m not even going to ask…” John just walked off. “Can we just get on with this?”

 

“Yeah, Sherlock, come on, you’re meant to be solving this.” Greg teased. The answering glare made Greg bite his lip to stifle the laugh.

 

It wasn’t too long after that they began the hunt around London once more, only this time, Greg was sure that the CCTV was keeping a very close eye on him. Guess there was perks to being Boyfriend of the British Government, but for Greg, he was still just Mycroft, and just Mycroft was good enough.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Author's Note:**

> The Victorian Flower Language reference, I took my meanings from this website, since I have no ACTUAL clue about it. 
> 
> http://www.languageofflowers.com/flowermeaning.htm
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy my work, It's my first time posting anything to AO3 and I've been writing about 5+ years before, wasn't going to post anything cringeworthy. If you want to leave a review or kudos, that's cool too. :) 
> 
> -Taurean Mama <3


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